


What Came Before

by Terrashpere



Category: Star Wars: The Old Republic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 04:13:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1252348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terrashpere/pseuds/Terrashpere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The galaxy can be an ugly place, especially for a piece of street trash from Iziz; but sometimes it takes an ugly place to produce an extraordinary talent. How the bounty hunter learned her craft and eventually met Braden. Rated T for (relatively mild) language, adult themes, implied child abuse, and violence. Violence and incidents comparable to those found in the game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> As many others have said before, and many will after: It all belongs to Bioware (and probably some to whoever currently own LucasArts), I'm just mucking about in their universe.

 

* * *

  

_When my faith was hanging_   
_by the weak thread of justice_   
_and in the whole city_   
_the hearts of my lamps were_   
_being torn to pieces_

\- Forugh Farrokhzad, _Window_ , 1974

 

* * *

 

 

She was so hungry, and the wink of bright metal and shine of coppery wires promised her at least enough credits to get a meal at Gardann's lousy excuse for a cantina. She shifted the filth and rotting garbage off of the tech slowly, piece by careful piece.

_Quiet, quiet. Can't let them hear._

Most of the other street kids were too scared to scavenge around here, and of the few who would come near at all, only Aodhni was bold, or desperate, enough to search the alley while Bilal and his toughs were 'entertaining' in the warehouse that fronted the area.

Iziz, for all its vaunted splendor, was not an easy place to live; at least not for children like Aodhni. Her uncle had told her once that her mother hadn't wanted children, just a rich husband. She'd never gotten one, of course. Instead, her uncle told her, she'd gotten a knife in the belly after one of her clients had had a little too much booze and a little too few credits to pay for the evening. When the investigators finally came out in response to the landlord's complaints about strange noises and a terrible smell, they found Maryam Hassan's mangled body, a depleted Spice stash, and three year old Aodhni hiding in the closet. A few days after her uncle told her the story, he decided that Aodhni was old enough to take on a few clients of her own.

Aodhni shuddered and forced the memories of her uncle's "friend" down into the pit of her stomach. It had taken six days for her to heal enough to move after that incident, and another three for her to work up the courage to steal her uncle's money and run. She'd been on her own ever since, and even though there were times, like tonight, when she felt dizzy from hunger and cold, she'd never looked back.

Aodhni had moved enough garbage to see her prize a little more clearly, and she drew a sharp breath as she realized what, exactly, was in front of her. It looked like the memory core off one of the loader droids that Bilal used in his warehouse. The scrap merchant that hung out by the skyramp paid good money for droid parts, and Aodhni's head was suddenly filled with images of hot food and a new blanket. She began prying the last bit of debris, a twisted shard of metal, off the memory core with such focus that she didn't notice the back door of the warehouse opening until it was too late.

"…yeah. I'll be back in just a sec. Gotta take a leak."

Aodhni froze when she heard the rough voice behind her. She knew she needed to run, to hide, but the shock of being caught just as she was about to get her hands on something wonderful, kept her frozen in place. She barely had time to feel it when the calloused palm grabbed her shoulder and yanked her sharply around.

"What do we have here? Don't you know it ain't nice to eavesdrop, little girl?"

_…and we have to be nice, little girl. Come be nice to Uncle's friend._

Aodhni's vision went white. A scream, primal and desperate, came from somewhere deep inside her. She kicked out as hard as she could and violently thrashed her body from side to side. The man holding on to her stumbled back in shock and pain, and Aodhni sprang forward without a conscious thought.

_Nice girl. Got a present for you little girl. Just for you._

Her mind was wheeling in terror and she could hear high pitched shrieks of rage and pain echoing down the alleyway. She wondered vaguely who was shrieking so desperately, but the thought swirled away as she swung her arm forward wildly. Again and again she lashed out at the man in front of her, only dimly registering that she still held the twisted metal scrap from the garbage bin. The man tried to raise his arms and back away, but his feet were tangled in the trash littering the floor of the narrow street. He tripped, and Aodhni was on him in a flash, still swinging the arm that held the discarded piece of jagged metal. She didn't stop, she couldn't. Everything in her urged her to do anything, anything at all to keep this man away, to keep him from hurting her. She barely knew who she was, but she knew that she had to keep stabbing. Even when she was covered in something wet and slimy and dripping hot blood, even when the man's pained howls had faded into low, breathy moans, even when he eventually went still beneath her, Aodhni kept jamming her makeshift weapon into him.

That was how Bilal Mahnoon found her; glassy eyed with shock, covered in blood, and sitting atop the lifeless body of one of his lieutenants. Normally, his instincts would've had him pulling out a blaster and taking care of the problem with the minimum amount of fuss, but something about the situation struck him as profound. He'd seen the dead man in front of him take down enraged Gamorreans without batting an eye; that the hardened veteran had just met his end at the hands of a child was puzzling to Bilal. Perhaps the kind of puzzle that was worth solving.

 

* * *

 

"No! Stupid little savage! The M-41 has more kick than that little sporting blaster the boss lets you play with. Tuck your elbow and brace your wrist. You wanna break your hand on your own time, be my guest, but right now, we got a job to do."

Aodhni snarled at Saacro, but made sure to tuck her elbow and brace her blaster wrist across her right forearm. This was the first real job that Bilal had ever sent her on, and she was determined not to screw it up. It had been a few years since Bilal had taken in a skinny, blood-covered, little street rat and set her to work. At first, she'd just scampered around a few back alleys and cantinas, pretending to be nothing more than another scavenger but keeping her ears open and reporting everything she heard back to one of Bilal's men. In return, she had a place to sleep, and even things to eat sometimes, when there was extra, or if one of Bilal's thugs was feeling particularly generous. Sometimes his men would hit her if they were drunk, or pissed off, and she wasn't fast enough to dodge, but he never let them touch her, not that way. Bilal Mahnoon was a slimy son of a Hutt with no qualms about selling Spice to kids and then shaking down their parents to pay the bills, but he didn't tolerate baby rapers.

Lately, fourteen year old Aodhni had noticed that she was starting to have some trouble squeezing into her usual hidey-holes, and the kind of people who'd never before given a second thought to seeing a dirty little urchin pawing through the garbage had started taking notice of her when she wandered into an area. The looks Bilal's men shot at her were starting to change too. She worried that she'd be cut loose if she started becoming less useful, or worse, that Bilal would withdraw the tenuous sliver of protection he'd extended to her over the years. She'd be fair game then, not a baby anymore, and no reason to expect that she'd end up any better than her mother.

Then, last night, Bilal had called her into his presence. His top lieutenant, the Weequay whom everybody just called "Weequay" and the only alien Aodhni had ever seen, was standing to Bilal's left, and two of Bilal's street runners, Saacro and Lunta, were leaning against the walls of Bilal's warehouse office. Aodhni was terrified that Bilal had decided she was a liability. She had expected to get blasted then and there, but then Bilal had actually smiled.

"You've been useful, little Pikobi," Aodhni had never heard that tone in Bilal's voice before, it was approving, and almost paternal. "I think it's time you took on a new challenge..."

Now, here she was, new blaster in hand, and ready to help Saacro and Lunta take out a few members of some street gang that Bilal felt was getting too bold. Apparently, the men she'd been sent to "clean up" were selling death sticks without bothering to get permission first. Before last night, Aodhni was only distantly aware of the existence of an organization called "The Exchange." She'd heard the name once or twice over the years, but up to now, her world had been completely contained by the strong, high walls of Iziz City. She knew local names, local faces; who to watch out for, who might be good for a spare credit or two, and who to listen for in conversation, but life in the rest of the wide galaxy was pretty much a blank to her. In Aodhni's world, Bilal was the boss, the ultimate authority over life, death, and everything in between; the idea that Bilal might actually have a boss of his own was nearly incomprehensible to her. Even now that she knew Bilal belonged to a crime syndicate that had bases and ran operations in pretty much every corner of known space, it was still hard for her to wrap her head around the idea. Bilal was in charge of things here in Iziz, but somewhere out there, there was someone else, someone with an even longer reach than Bilal, someone who had noticed a decline of profits, and that someone had ordered Bilal to take care of the problem.

"Pay attention, you barvy little slug!" Lunta hissed at her. The clunky, ancient, cybernetic ocular lens that served in place of his left eye whirred as he focused on the wall in front of them. "Looks like we got all four of them inside. Three sitting around a table or something, and one standing in the back right corner. Think he's facing away from us."

Saacro nodded once and motioned for Lunta to take point. "Alright brat, the one in the back corner's yours. Aim right between his shoulders, and pop off two bolts right away, got it?"

Aodhni bobbed her head and did her best to look to like she was calm and ready for what was about to happen.

"Try not to shit your pants kid," Saacro smirked at her "You're going in second. Just keep your eyes on your mark."

Lunta held up two fingers, waited a beat, and then burst through door. Aodhni ducked in after him, blaster raised, heart racing. She scanned the room and saw her target just as he was starting to turn around, the set of his shoulders radiating shock and alarm. Time seemed to move in extreme slow motion as Aodhni drew a ragged breath. Her brain suddenly took her back to a time when she'd heard some spacers in a cantina talk about a colleague who'd flown too close to a black hole in some place called the Hydian Way.

_"Just got sucked right in. Poor old Sacobi, helluva way to go," the spacer took a long drink and wiped his mouth. His companion nodded her head soberly and applied herself to her own drink._

_Aodhni was paying close attention to these two- outside visitors were rare, and Bilal always liked to keep tabs on them. After a moment, the woman spoke up too, "Heard time gets funny, when you get too close to one of them things," she said._

_"Heard it almost stops, so when your body gets pulled apart, it can take, like, a million years to stop feelin' the pain."_

Aodhni wondered if this was what it was like to get drawn into a black hole. It almost seemed like she was existing outside of time as she felt her finger slowly drawing the trigger of her blaster, each micrometer of movement seeming take forever. When the pistol finally went off, it was almost a surprise and suddenly time seemed to rush back at her, everything seemed to speed up to a thousand times its normal rate, like the universe had just realized that it made a mistake, and was trying to fast forward events to catch up with reality. Her shot went a little wide of the mark, catching the target in the upper part of his right arm and causing him to spin around.

He faced Aodhni for a split second before she fired off another bolt, and she had just enough time to register the obvious youth written across his face before her blaster bolt slammed into his chest and knocked him off his feet. She stood where she was, blaster still raised and gaze boring into the empty face of the fresh body across the room. She heard Saacro shout something, and then the loud report of his blaster rifle rang out, but she didn't even twitch, she just stared at the boy who had been alive not two minutes before.

She wondered what his name was, and whether he had been a child like her, unwanted and unloved, or if he had a mother, a brother, a father out there somewhere who would wonder what ever became of him. She wondered what he'd done that day; had he eaten breakfast, sold some product, visited a lover, made plans for his future? Had he guessed that he might end up just a pile of garbage, dumped into the incinerator behind the Eastern recycle station? Or had it just been an ordinary day for him, until she came in and ended all his plans with two quick shots from her blaster?

She was pulled out of her reverie by Saacro's victorious whoop and Lunta's grouchy complaint. "Damn, you're a cold bitch, ain't ya? I damn near pissed my pants after I did my first sharpie."

"Aw, you're just pissed cause the brat cost you twenty creds. Come on ya' scroggin' bunch of rancor turds, pay up!" Saacro grinned over at her in way that almost felt like camaraderie, "He bet me twenty creds that you'd either barf or slag out."

"S'not natural," Lunta grumbled as he dug in his pockets for the credits. "Little Bishwag is scroggin' vicious."

Aodhni turned toward the irritable thug and bared her teeth at him. Something in her grin must have been vicious indeed, because the tough stopped his moaning and began discharging the heat from his blasters, studiously looking away from her. She was glad she managed to pull off a fearsome look, because inside she was shaking like a whipped Akk dog.

"Alright kid," Saacro's voice was rough as ever, but for the first time, sounded almost friendly. He'd never called her anything as nice as "kid" before. "Fun part's done, now comes the messy part. We gotta get rid of these stiffs before someone comes nosing around."

 

* * *

 

 

Author's note: For anyone who is not a complete Star Wars nerd like myself, and have only played SWTOR because it's a Bioware title, Onderon is a pretty important planet in the Star Wars verse. It's featured in KOTOR, Star Wars the Clone Wars television show, and many other sources. For info on the planet I'd recommend looking at the Onderon wiki on wookiepedia (All hail wookiepedia!) Some of the language is pretty common Star Wars slang, but hasn't (to my knowledge) appeared in the game. If you didn't understand something, and the explanation isn't listed below, just head over to Wookipedia and type the phrase in the search box.

 

* * *

 

 **Weequay** : humanoids with thick, leathery skin that range in color from tan to dark brown and known for lipless, scaly faces with a frill along each of their jowls. Many are slaves to the Hutts and are often found in the position of mercenary, body guard, or criminal henchman. On their homeworld, they communicate with clanmates mostly through exuding a series of pheromone combinations. Since they use scent and complex "pheromone codes" to identify one another, many Weequay never find the need to adopt a spoken name, although some Weequay that choose to stray from their clans choose "use-names" in order to fit in more comfortably with non-Weequay society.

 **Pikobi** : fast-moving, flightless reptavians native to the Gungan swamps of Naboo and the jungles of Onderon. "Quick as a Pikobi," is akin to saying "Quick as a mouse," or maybe "Fast as Falcon," since Pikobi are not quite as defenseless as mice.

 **death sticks** : A drug akin to acid. They are sticks of a cilona-extract that offer euphoria in exchange for a horrific outcome. They produce a twisted version of reality enhanced by bright colors and are commonly taken as an additive to a drink. They are commonly seen in small tubes of red or yellow liquid and with each dose the user's life is shortened, and the successive dosages take away larger chunks from a lifespan. Strictly banned in both the Empire and Republic space, but somewhat more common in neutral regions and on "outlaw" planets.

 **barvy** : crazy

 **the Hydian Way** : a super-hyperroute that begins at the Corporate Sector on one side of the galaxy and continues through the core to the other side, past Eriadu. It is the only route that passes through the entire galaxy. There is a black hole located along the route, near Dathomir, that smugglers will occasionally skirt in order to avoid authorities. Unfortunately, as the poor spacer I dreamed up for the opening chapter found out, skirting a black hole is a dangerous affair.

 **sharpie** : initially intended, I think, to mean "sharp-witted." Crimson Jack uses the word to describe Han Solo, but I kinda readapted it to suit my purposes. In this case, it means "hit" or "victim of a professional hit."

 **scroggin'** or **scrogging** : a mild curse, like saying "fricking" or "f-ing" bishwag: an expletive used by many Humans during the last decades of the Old Republic to indicate an untrustworthy being.


	2. Burning Bright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The galaxy can be an ugly place, especially for a piece of street trash from Iziz; but sometimes it takes an ugly place to produce an extraordinary talent. How the bounty hunter learned her craft and eventually met Braden. Rated T for (relatively mild) language, adult themes, implied child abuse, and violence. Violence and incidents comparable to those found in the game.

 

**Chapter 2: Burning Bright**

" _In what distant deeps or skies_  
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?  
On what wings dare he aspire?  
What the hand dare sieze the fire?"

- _William Blake, The Tyger, 1794_

* * *

"You've done well, Pikobi" Bilal's eyes lasered into hers and his grin was keen and somehow proprietary. "Saacro tells me that you were quick with your blaster, but not so light on your feet as one might hope."

Aodhni licked her lips and opened her mouth to explain, to apologize, to swear that she'd do better next time. Bilal's direct gaze reminded her of the Drexl that the city guards kept leashed near the Sky Ramp checkpoint and the way it crouched and glared a predator's stare at passersby. The unbidden image of Bilal pouncing upon her and ripping her apart made her tongue feel thick and stupid in her mouth and she struggled to think of a reply that might appease Bilal, or at least do something to lighten the intensity of his regard. Before her fizzing brain could settle on a response though, Bilal shifted his attention to the stone-faced Weequay standing, as ever, at Bilal's left flank.

"Weequay will help you improve your speed, teach you the proper footwork" Bilal continued speaking his directions to Aodhni, but his words were clearly meant for both her and the Weequay whose passive stance gave no indication of approval or acceptance. "Train hard, Pikobi. I have plans for you."

* * *

_Thwack!_ The side-sweep from the electrostaff took her hard on the outside of her left thigh and Aodhni's balance wobbled as she felt the limb go numb. Weequay grunted his disapproval and rained a series of blows down on her head as Aodhni made an effort to correct her footing and line up her blaster. She dropped to a knee as Weequay closed on her to deliver a "killing" blow to the side of her neck and depressed the trigger for her emergency shield generator. The edge of his electrostaff caught the blurred edge of her shield and blue energy sparks whizzed crazily from the point of contact. The electro staff rebounded from the shield and Aodhni felt a shudder as the cocoon of energy attempted, and failed, to absorb the full shock of the blow. The shield went down, but it granted Aodhni a few precious seconds, and after almost two years of daily workouts with the alien, a few seconds was all she needed to guess the direction of the next series of slashing cuts. She rolled out of the way just as her trainer's electrostaff whirled into the spot where her head had been and she fired two quick bolts at him from her prone position on the floor. The first bolt went a little wide of the mark, and the Weequay's dueling shield absorbed it with ease. The second bolt missed completely, but passed close enough to the alien's wrinkled face that he was forced to leave off his attack and dance back a few paces.

Weequay eyed her warily as she staggered up from the floor, the numbness in her left leg giving way to shooting pains and a vague burning sensation. Aodhni kept her heavy blaster aimed at the dead center of his chest and attempted to angle her body into a good defensive position. They both knew that she only had one more shot before she would be forced to vent the heat from the finicky, but powerful weapon that she carried these days, and Aodhni was determined to make the shot count. Not so long ago, she might have gone charging in, intent on the kill shot, but after endless bruises and more painful lessons than she cared to recount, she was finally beginning to understand the virtue of patience.

" _Pain makes panic, panic makes recklessness. Wound your opponent, wait til it is reckless, then strike."_

It was one of the longest speeches she'd ever heard the Weequay utter, and at first, the idea of shooting at a target with the intent to wound had sickened her. It reminded her of her uncle and the way he'd once tortured an alley cat that had woken him from a drunken stupor with its yowling. She still preferred a direct attack and a clean kill whenever possible (it was less messy, if nothing else); but she'd also come to understand the necessity of indirect tactics, especially when engaging a foe face-to-face who was nearly twice her size, armed with a damned electrified razor, and intent on bringing her down. Lately, she'd been playing with a few modifications to her back-up weapons with an eye towards inducing panic in some of her more stubborn marks, and she thought that this mock battle with her trainer might be just the time to try one of them out.

She let her blaster dip slightly and deliberately listed just a little far to the right, favoring her wounded left leg a tad more than was strictly necessary. The Weequay noted the change in her posture and circled warily towards her unguarded side, making a few cautious feints to test the veracity behind the claims that her body was making. When she responded with a limp and slight stumble, he bobbed his braided head forward in triumph and moved in for the kill. Quick as the little lizard she was nick-named for, Aodhni slapped her blaster hand to her left wrist and activated the flamethrower she'd installed last week and had been tinkering with, in secret, ever since.

Weequay let out a roar of surprise and pain and threw a protective arm up over his eyes as he scrambled backwards out of the fire's radius… and right into optimum blaster range. Aodhni didn't hesitate, she squeezed the trigger of her blaster with complete confidence and her heart sang with victory as she watched the resultant bolt plow into her mentor's abdomen. Weequay's pain-filled eyes met Aodhni's briefly before he let out a groan and toppled forward onto the floor.

Aodhni took a moment to savor the sight of her trainer laying face-down on the cold, plasticrete floor of the warehouse before moving forward to offer him a kolto injection. Even with the training mod placed on her weapon, a blaster bolt to the gut was no joke, and the Weequay's armor was still smoking slightly where her flame thrower had kissed the surface. Aodhni knelt down next to the groaning figure but was careful to keep the vibroknife from her belt drawn and ready. She avoided any kind of physical contact until the Weequay indicated that she could touch him; she'd been fooled by his apparent incapacitation more than once, and had the scars to prove it.

" _Never approach downed enemy without weapon in hand."_

She watched the steady rise and fall of her opponent's chest for a moment, and when he weakly raised two fingers and motioned her forward, she sheathed her knife and grabbed one of the disposable kolto injectors out of the small compartment at the base of her chest plate. She administered the drug straight into the Weequay's leathery neck and helped roll him into a sitting position.

"Good," he grunted hoarsely, "but could be better."

It was high praise coming from the terse alien, and Aodhni took a moment to preen before she replied.

"I got the flame thrower workin' pretty good, but I need to fiddle some with the shield generator."

The Weequay wheezed in a ragged breath and used Aodhni's shoulder to lever himself heavily to his feet.

"Thrower good. Surprise good. Do not rely on same tactic again, though. Predictable warrior is dead warrior."

Aodhni nodded her assent as Weequay let go of her shoulder and moved shakily towards one of the old warehouse offices that had been repurposed into his quarters.

"Go. Care for armor, weapons. Report to Bilal at darking time" the Weequay didn't bother turning to see if she heard him or whether she intended to comply; they both knew the order of things. She would either do as she was told and continue to live in the relative safety and comfort offered by life as one of Bilal's favorites, or she would… well, truth be told, Aodhni had no real notion of what would happen if she ever refused an order from the alien. She assumed, however, that the punishment for such an offense would be painful, swift, and very final.

Aodhni turned away from her teacher's retreating figure and headed towards the row of tall, dusty cargo containers at the back of the warehouse. The boxes hadn't contained cargo for some time, but Bilal kept them in place to conceal the trapdoor that led to the warren of rooms and tunnels that stretched up and down the whole length of Iziz's industrial sector. Some of Bilal's lower ranking toughs and thugs lived down here full time, but the majority of the Exchange's people made enough money to rent apartments or flops in the city proper. Mostly, the ones who lived down here were either too old and broken to afford quarters topside, or else they were too strung out to. Aodhni liked it down here because it felt safe. As long as she was careful, no one could to sneak up on her in the cramped rooms or narrow hallways. She wasn't afraid of getting cornered, either; not anymore. She'd worked hard to become the meanest bitch in this kennel, and she _never_ went without a weapon or took off all her armor at once. A few old men and a handful of Spiceheads would barely offer her a challenge on her worst day, assuming any of them ever sacked up enough to come near her.

As she approached the series of three connected rooms that she'd laid claim to, Aodhni walked a careful path, dancing around trap triggers and avoiding the blasting caps she'd set up for an added layer of protection. She'd chosen these rooms specifically for their shotgun configuration- only one way in or out, the doorways into each consecutive room were staggered so that no one entering the first room could get a direct shot into either of the other two. The front room was mostly for show and storing the extra bits and bobs that she had no immediate use for, but felt compelled to keep. She'd booby trapped the hell out of that room, and anyone without specific knowledge of where, exactly, the tripwires, proximity mines, and EMP traps were placed was unlikely to make it ten steps without finding themselves in some serious need of a visit to the med center.

The second room was where Aodhni kept her improvised workbench, the tools she'd scavenged and nicked from marks over the years, and any junk she found that looked like it might be useful in converting to mods or weapons. No booby traps in here, but she had come across a badly damaged serving droid a few months ago, and she was in the process of rebuilding it to the point that she could get it up and running and capable of serving as an alarm. It would take a really determined team to get past the section of hallway next to her "front door," not to mentioned the death-trap that served as her front room, but Aodhni figured it was better to be safe than sorry, and it couldn't hurt to have an alert system in the event that someone managed to defuse her defenses and penetrate her inner sanctum.

The back room was more like two tiny rooms, the first one, where she slept, and the second one, divided from the first by a sort-of entry way with a raggedy old curtain slung up in between. She assumed it had been intended as some sort of refresher-cum-storage closet. It had a scarred old fresher in the corner, a rusty faucet halfway up the back wall, old, empty shelving along the opposite wall, and an industrial drain right in the center of the stained, cracked, permacrete floor. The faucet wasn't high enough on the wall for a proper shower, it wasn't low enough to be a convenient height for hand washing, and the only temperature it seemed to be capable of producing was freeze-your-tits-off cold, but it still poured water out, and that was all that really mattered to Aodhni.

The sleeping area was barely big enough for the worn out mattress that Aodhni slept on, the mini-cooling unit she'd salvaged and rebuilt, and the armor and weapons rack that she'd improvised out of old cargo crates and torn up rebar. Aodhni occasionally amused herself by imagining what the big, luxurious rooms in the Onderon Royal Palace must be like, but her mind always stalled on the idea of marbled columns and carpeting. The closest she'd ever come to such decadence was the time she and Saacro had done a hit for Bilal in the Noble Sector. Not that they'd actually done one of those stuck-up assholes; the hit had been a body guard who'd proven to be unbribe-able, even by Bilal himself. Aodhni had been so distracted by the guard's private sonic-shower and ripple bath that she'd almost forgotten to pop him when he came home for the day; almost.

Sonic-showers were the farthest things from her mind today, though. Still riding high from her victory over the Weequay, Aodhni was eager to tweak the frequency output of her shield generator and maybe even treat herself to a hot meal from Gardann's before she had to report to Bilal for her latest assignment. She stripped out of her shoulder and arm guards, tossed her helmet onto the floor next to the old serving droid, and sat down at her work bench to make her repairs.

* * *

"Cannot teach more to one who has mastered what I know," the Weequay shrugged and blinked at his boss. The truth was that the young human female had learned speed and footwork far more quickly than the Weequay had imagined possible. She wasn't perfect, nor even the best he'd ever seen, but the potential was there. She was determined, and her single-mindedness in battle was surprising for one so young. It wasn't exactly accurate to say that his pupil had mastered all the skills that Weequay could teach, but how to explain to the human before him that the girl was not suited to his style of combat? Oh, he had no doubt that she _could_ learn to fight like him, and _would_ , if she was so ordered, but what a waste that would be! Like breaking the legs of a born hunter so that he might learn to be a better painter.

In battle, Weequay was a master with a blade, a poet whose art was written in the intimate dance that could only happen between two souls engaged in close melee. The smell of his opponent's fear, the dying gasp of an enemy, the comical shock on the Onderonians' malleable alien faces as he slid a blade between their ribs, or bashed their heads in with the hardened ends of his electrostaff; these things were vital to the Weequay's sense of violence and honor. It was different for Aodhni, though. His young pupil was as distant, cold, and deadly as Quay; a part of, and yet somehow apart from the rest of the world. Weequay could not bear to enter into any kind of conflict wearing a helmet or gauntlets, he needed to _feel_ the weight of his weapons, to see the movements and hesitations of his opponents, but Aodhni could not tolerate moving through the world in anything less than full armor. As he had once been trained, he began her instruction with bare-handed combat. She had been competent, but clearly uncomfortable. It was not until he had procured enough disparate pieces of armor to form a full set for her that she truly began to shine.

The first time she had shown him a new "toy" she'd attached to that armor, he'd been amazed and somewhat baffled at her ingenuity. It was a small dart launcher, hard wired into her wrist guard and somehow attached to the GUI in her helmet. She had attempted to explain how the helmet's readout would indicate "where" and "how" she should aim her little wrist for "maximum effective delivery of the payload," but they had both given up on trying to make him understand. He'd seen the device's usefulness the first time they'd sparred, however. He nearly laughed aloud when he recalled the woozy feeling of being stung by one of her little sleep darts.

The Weequay didn't know how to make his boss understand any of this though, so he simply shrugged again and told the man, "Nothing left for Weequay to teach."

* * *

Her first solo job. It was surreal, unbelievable. If she pulled this off, she would really be a member of the exchange, making wages and everything. Bilal had been very clear: he had plans for her, bigger plans than just letting her become another street thug or Spice pusher, and they all hinged on her performance tonight.

The mark was a spacer who'd done something to piss off the Exchange. Apparently, he'd flown a little too close to the Mando controlled space around Duxn, and his ship took on some damage. He'd put in for repairs at the docking station orbiting Onderon, and now he was busy getting shitfaced at the Spaceport Cantina.

Aodhni's lip curled into a sneer as she edged around the back wall of the cantina. Her mark was loud, and boasting about how he'd escaped the Mandalorians. Aodhni had never met one in person, but from everything she'd heard, she figured the Mandalorians must not have really cared too much about this idiot, or else he'd already be dead. The fool was wearing a synth-leather pilot's jacket and tight fitted, tan, flight pants. No armor at all. What kind of moron with a price on his head wanders onto a planet controlled by the exchange and doesn't even bother with a proper set of armor?

Aodhni sat down two tables over from the mark while she pondered the best approach. She would've liked to just stand up and blast him in the back, but the place was too crowded, and too brightly lit for that. There were guards all over the space port, and Aodhni didn't much fancy a trip to the royal dungeons. She sighed. It would have to be an up-close and personal kind of affair then. She hated this kind of thing, but experience told her that a loud braggart like her mark wouldn't think twice about being hit on by a younger woman; the asshole would probably just think it was his due.

Aodhni removed her helmet and tucked it under her arm. She took a deep breath, and then stood up abruptly. She relaxed her facial muscles and lowered her eyelids to half-mast in what she hoped was a passable attempt at "sultry." She sauntered up to her target's table and pitched her voice low.

"Hey there, good lookin'. Did you really fight off a whole band of Mandos?"

The mark looked up from his mug of Corellian ale and gave her the once over. She knew she wasn't exactly a prize, encased in armor and smelling like a combination of accelerant and mechanical grease, but she was young, and female, and her face wasn't too bad. Apparently, the spacer was either drunk enough or horny enough that it didn't matter because he grinned up at Aodhni and used one foot to push out the stool next to his.

"Come sit down, sweetheart, and I'll tell you all about it."

"I'd rather go somewhere private," she did her best to sound sexy and inviting.

The spacer tripped all over himself trying to get out of his stool, and then attempted a recovery line, "I'll follow you, beautiful. Lead the way."

Aodhni turned and began walking towards the Cantina exit. Her mark tossed a handful of hurried credits at the serving droid and scrambled to follow her like an excited puppy. Aodhni sent him a small smile over her shoulder, faced front again, and rolled her eyes. She couldn't believe how easy this was turning out to be.

_Thinking with the head in his pants instead of the one on his shoulders. Stars! It's amazing he's managed to stay alive for this long._

He caught up to her at the space port's exit and took hold of her hand. She tried to keep moving forward, but he laughed and tugged her backwards into a little alcove just off the thoroughfare. He pressed forward as she fell back and she could feel his chest pressing against the back of her armor. He brought their still joined hands to her waist and put his lips on her neck, just below her ear. She let her free hand move slowly towards her blaster but froze when she felt something hard knock against the armor between her shoulder blades. The laughing voice in her ear was suddenly cold and sounded much less foolish than it had in the cantina.

"Are you really the best the Exchange could muster, little girl? I'll send your head back to Sabine in a box!"

* * *

Author's note:

For anyone who is not a complete Star Wars nerd like myself, and have only played SWTOR because it's a Bioware title, Onderon is a pretty important planet in the Star Wars verse. It's featured in KOTOR, Star Wars the Clone Wars television show, and many other sources. For info on the planet I'd recommend looking at the Onderon wiki on wookiepedia (All hail wookiepedia!) The city that Aodhni was born and currently lives in is Iziz, the only city on Onderon's surface.

Some of the language is pretty common Star Wars slang, but hasn't (to my knowledge) appeared in the game. Some has but was never really explained. If you didn't understand something, and the explanation isn't listed below, just head over to Wookipedia and type the phrase in the search box.

* * *

**Drexl** : Similar to Krayt Dragons, these winged lizards possess heavily muscled bodies covered by purple scales, long necks, small heads with short, wide snouts and sharp fangs. A fully grown male specimen has a wingspan of twenty meters across. These are the traditional mounts of Onderon's beast riders.

 **Electrostaff** : an electronic melee weapon constructed of lightsaber-resistant phrik alloy equipped with electromagnetic pulse-generating tips.

 **Pikobi** : fast-moving, flightless reptavians native to the Gungan swamps of Naboo and the jungles of Onderon. "Quick as a Pikobi," is akin to saying "Quick as a mouse," or maybe "Fast as Falcon," since Pikobi are not quite as defenseless as mice.

 **Vibroknife** : a blade that uses an internal generator to make the blade vibrate. These vibrations can make even a glancing blow into a huge, gruesome slash.

 **Weequay** : humanoids with thick, leathery skin that range in color from tan to dark brown and known for lipless, scaly faces with a frill along each of their jowls. Many are slaves to the Hutts and are often found in the position of mercenary, body guard, or criminal henchman. On their homeworld, they communicate with clanmates mostly through exuding a series of pheromone combinations. Since they use scent and complex "pheromone codes" to identify one another, many Weequay never find the need to adopt a spoken name, although some Weequay that choose to stray from their clans choose "use-names" in order to fit in more comfortably with non-Weequay society.


End file.
